


The Right Thing (or in which Castiel tries - and fails - to be helpful)

by AilurusFulgens, WarlockInTraining



Series: Life With The Winchesters [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, What is this?, we don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 22:11:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AilurusFulgens/pseuds/AilurusFulgens, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarlockInTraining/pseuds/WarlockInTraining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Castiel eavesdrops and stuff get a little out of hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Thing (or in which Castiel tries - and fails - to be helpful)

**Author's Note:**

> We were bored out of our minds in maths last tuesday. That's what came out of it.  
> Co-written with the awesome warlockintraining.tumblr.com !

The room was dark, and he stumbled upon something with rough edges.

"Fuck!" Dean growled. He didn't need another freaking bruise. The fight against those vampires, while relatively easy, didn't leave him unscathed. He turned on the lights, only to see that the thing was actually a huge wooden box, sitting right in the middle of the bunker's kitchen. Weird. He neared it cautiously: it must have been Sam who brought it there, but apart from a faint smell of burnt wood and a few scorched symbols, he had absolutely no clue about what that box held.

"Sam!" he called, "Sammy! What on earth did you buy this time, uh? I swear to God, if it's another one of these robot-dogs, I'll end you. I'll come and cut your hair while you're sleeping, you hear me? When I say no dogs, I mean _no do_..." he stopped, cut short by what he saw when he opened the damn box. 

Painted stones, pine branches, flasks of holy water, borax and many other monster-deadly weapons were neatly stored on a thick pillow of straw inside the box (who kinda seemed smaller on the outside, if you asked him). All four sides of the crate were painted with red sigils. He recognized one of them as the smiting sigil. Looking more closely, he notices that what he first took for messily applied red paint was blood.

"The hell?" he muttered, and turned around looking for his brother, only to jump and let out a (manly) yelp of surprise as he saw Castiel standing on the threshold of the kitchen door, his trademark head tilt in place.

"Hello, Dean" Castiel said, his voice deep and exhausted. Dean's eyes widened as he took in the blood splattered all over Castiel's clothes, his shirt and trench-coat having taken the worst of it. As his eyes slid down, he noticed a thick gash on the angel's left hand, as if he'd cut himself open. Well, of course he did. The sigils didn't draw themselves after all.

"Did you... Was it... You brought this here?" he stuttered, pointing at the box, eyebrows raised. 

"Yes, I figured it could help" answered Castiel's rough voice, as if he'd been screaming.

"What... Why would we need help? And where did you find all of this stuff anyway?" asked Dean.

"Well, I heard Sam screaming about a incoming dragon yesterday night. I thought we might need to be prepared, as we never ever fought such a creature. So I went to a demon's lair to get some firepower. However I think they didn't find my intrusion very pleasant. And considering that I might've killed the leader's lover, they will surely be coming after us too. Hence the holy water."

Dean's mouth was hanging open.  He didn't know whether to hit Castiel in the shins for being so damn stupid, or to tear him a new one on mother-frigging safety and stealth. As he was about to speak, he heard a stifled burst of laughter coming from the other door of the room. He turned to face the sound, not surprised in the least to see Sam, face red with from the effort he was making no to laugh out loud. Dean cocked an eyebrow Sam's way, clearly demanding an explanation. Trying to calm down, Sam slowly breathed in and out a couple of times. 

"I... I was playing..." he tried to explain while holding his sides, "I was playing Skyrim on my computer Cas, there isn't any dragon coming at us, you doofus." He had stopped laughing, but his eyes were stil dangerously sparkling with mirth and laughter. "

"So now we have a hoard of demons ready to kick our asses. Because you decided to go in an kill their son of a bitch leader's chick. Awesome." fumed Dean. No really, that was great. What more could he ask for anyway?  Oh, wait: rest, food, maybe a Lord of the Rings marathon. But no. He got stuck with a freaking gang of black eyed prick plotting their revenge somewhere in their pit, waiting for the right time to come at him.

He pinched his nose.

"You." he pointed to Sam, whom had started giggling again as the sight of a totally lost Castiel. "You are going to sort out this mess, because there's no way in hell I'm dealing with demons. Not now." He stopped Sam's weak attempts at protesting with a well places "Bitch" which got him a non-heated "Jerk" in retaliation.  
  


"And as for you..." he turned to Castiel, and stopped. Seriously, how could a million years old angel in a full grown man body display the perfect confused puppy face? It amazed him. "... You need some tending up to, and a bath. Dude, you reek. What did you roll on to stink like that?"  
  
"I did not roll in anything, Dean." replied Castiel, wrinkling his nose as if profoundly confused about someone thinking he would roll onto something stinky. "Although I thought that some of the female's gut might prove itself a valuable ingredient for any repelling spell we might have to cast and -"  
  
"STOP!" Dean yelled as he saw Castiel reaching for his pocket while talking. He winced. He could feel a headache coming.  "I don't want to hear - or _see_ \- anything about demon's gut or anything remotely freaky. Five vampires is enough for me in one day, thank you. Now, put whatever you have in your pockets on that freaking counter near the shelves, _far away from me and my eyes_ , and come on."

Once he was certain he wouldn't see any plastic bag holding pieces of intestines and stomach, he gently grabbed the collar of Castiel's trench-coat and started leading him towards the bathroom. 

After a dozen step however, Castiel asked:

"Dean?" he seemed so puzzled Dean didn't have the heart to ignore him.

"Yeah?"

"What's Skyrim?"

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed the bathroom door open. 

**Author's Note:**

> Review is embraced and warmly welcomed, good or bad. WE WANT TO IMPROVE.


End file.
